What do they all eat?
What do they all eat?
What do they all eat?
Several years ago as I helped set the table at my parents' house for our traditional Thanksgiving Day dinner, I remember looking out the patio doors. There, as if in combat, came a brigade of turkeys, emerging from the woods and stampeding my parents' back yard. Feeling secure with the knowledge that I indeed do not eat turkey, I remember watching this militant gang and mumbling under my breath to my family, "You guys are screwed."
Sure, I could have warned them. I could have alerted my family to the group of warriors about to approach their barren patio on that cold November day, but then wouldn't I be just as bad, just as guilty as these carnivorous creatures about to indulge in drumstick consuming, wishbone breaking, dark-meat comparing, the gravy-tastes-better-with-the-fat gloating, relatives? Indeed I would. So I allowed the flock of turkeys to come as close as they wanted and to poop all over their expensive newly composite deck.
And on that day, on that particular Thanksgiving, in my mind, the turkeys won.
I join the fight in anti-turkey feasting on this upcoming Thanksgiving and, actually, every single day. Perhaps I have been too quiet when it comes to my loyalty to the beautiful turkey. Could it be that I feel guilty telling everyone to ban turkeys on this gluttonous holiday due to the fact that my brother-in-law's family owns a giant turkey farm in Canada?
Oh yes, this is true.
They have chickens, too, and a contract with the Campbell Soup Company. It's a profitable business for the family as I'm sure you can guess, but yours truly still curls up in a ball and cries herself to sleep just thinking about it.
Perhaps I have a soft spot in my heart for the turkey since I've been up close and personal with a Tom at my high school friend Josh Joyce's house. He had a bunch of animals including sheep, domesticated pets and one gorgeous and slightly arrogant male turkey. Tom strutted his stuff around us, and for some reason, once still, he would prop himself up on Josh's boot while we would be standing on the property chatting, simply to take a break, chill out for a while, and to listen to our conversation. Tom was cool. And although a bit nosey, some might even say intrusive, Tom was welcome to hang out for a while and catch up on all the Northwest Area gossip for the day.
When I was a kid, someone, somewhere along the way, gave me a pin with a turkey holding a sign that said, "You are what you eat." I found the pin last year and sported it during Thanksgiving dinner. I of course plan on wearing it for this dinner at my parents' house this year as well. It's not a team of picketers, but it's the least I can do.
Recently, I found a website that sells T-shirts, long-sleeved tees and sweatshirts condoning the vegetarian lifestyle and, in a humorous way, denouncing turkey consumption. Had I found them earlier, I would have bought several styles and wore them throughout the week leading up to the sadly labeled "Turkey Day." Zazzle.com has some quirky styles and after this fortunate find, I will be sure to bring out the plastic and make some purchases in preparation for next year.
So enjoy your flesh consumption on Thursday, and make sure you get a heaping spoonful of the bird's stuffing complete with liver and innards and whatever other turkey juices get absorbed. This fowl-free friend will be enjoying crescent rolls, peas, and broccoli, and three or six glasses of white wine to numb the pain of watching others eat turkey, of course.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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